


He's Holding My Hand

by Tafka



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 04:17:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20754212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tafka/pseuds/Tafka
Summary: Trevelyan can't stop himself from overreacting to a small contact from Solas





	He's Holding My Hand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ScarletLoup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletLoup/gifts).

_He’s holding my hand. He’s holding my hand and touching my palm. He’s holding my hand and moving his thumb over my palm. He’s holding my hand and..._ Trevelyan’s mind raced over and over the thought as Solas lightly stroked the skin of his palm where it met the Mark. It felt like an electric tingling that had nothing to do with the fade magic that pulsed through him, and everything to do with the fact that Solas’s touch was so soft, so tender, it was more like a lover’s caress than the scholarly perusal that Trevelyan knew it was.

He forced himself to look away from the long fingers wrapped around his own hand and cast about the room for something to rest his eyes on. There was a glowing rune on Solas’ desk; frost by the feel of it. The sheet covering the divan in the corner had fallen a bit, and pooled on the ground, revealing some of the threadbare brocade beneath. There was a half-finished fresco on the south wall, almost abstract in its depiction of wolves howling beneath an all-seeing sword. He thought the sword might be meant to be the Inquisition, but he didn’t know what the wolves represented. But then he was no art critic.

His eyes wandered back towards his companion, only to be caught in Solas’ direct gaze. Thought and composure left him immediately. Solas merely looked inquisitively at him. Casting about, desperately, for something to say, Trevelyan defaulted to talking about the Mark. “Has there been any change?”

“Very little. It seems to have quieted for now.”

“How can you tell? Just from looking?”

Solas smiled indulgently at the question, “I can feel it. The pull of the fade from your Mark is very strong. I can feel it even from across the room.”

“So you don’t really need to be holding my hand?” Trevelyan joked.

Solas looked down, only just realizing that he still had Trevelyan’s left hand held loosely in his own. He shook his head, and moved to release him.

“No wait!” Trevelyan realized his error in drawing Solas’ attention to their continued contact. It meant he would end that contact, and Trevelyan couldn’t allow this. He reached up with his other hand, and clasped Solas’ between his. “Please, don’t stop?”

Solas’ eyes flicked down to their clasped hands, and then back up to pin Trevelyan with a steady gaze. “I can continue my examination, if you wish.”

Trevelyan felt like he could sink through the stone floor and into the Undercroft, where he would pitch himself over the waterfall. “I just…” he searched for words to explain what he meant, but only came up with the truth. “I just really like holding your hand.”

Solas continued to look steadily and inscrutably back at him, before, ever so slowly, something like a small smile crossed his face. “I enjoy this as well.”

Emboldened by the smile, Trevelyan doubled down. “I really like spending time with you, in general.”

“As do I.”

“I mean,” Trevelyan felt compelled to push his luck, “not just studying the fade together. Although that is nice, I mean I… I really like you.” He felt like he was half his age again, a young man stiltedly confessing his first crush. He hoped against hope that Solas didn’t see him that way.

Solas was looking at him with that little smile again. He seemed to be considering something for a moment, before the smile intensified, and he leaned towards Trevelyan.

_He’s kissing me. He’s kissing me and his lips are touching my lips. He’s kissing me and his lips are moving over mine and…_


End file.
